


Tongue Sharper than Sword

by lotorslance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Both ships are only mentioned, Canon Divergent, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Lance is an adult, Lancelot - Freeform, Langst, M/M, One-sided Allura/Lotor, One-sided Lance/Allura, Pining Lance (Voltron), Season 5 Spoilers, Soft Lancelot, Sword Fighting, Training, endgame Lancelot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 12:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14790702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotorslance/pseuds/lotorslance
Summary: The Lancelot sword training we all want in season 6.





	Tongue Sharper than Sword

At first, the Paladins had treated Lotor as they would’ve should it had been Zarkon who’d waltzed right in to their ship: absolutely no leeway, no trust…barely any respect. Pidge reminded them all that should they give him an inch, he’d very well take a mile and Lance liked that ideology—Lotor was _dangerous;_ he was the _son of_ _Zarkon_ for crow’s sake! It’s only what made sense.  
  
With Keith busy off with the Blades, it left the six of them to take turns watching over the prisoner: he didn’t need a constant eye, but enough to prevent any sort of escape plotting, though there was no way to monitor what exactly he was thinking of.  
  
But Lotor had no intention of leaving the Castle and it didn’t take too long for the crew to gather that impression, especially given the way he chatted whoever was monitoring him’s head off.  
  
It was during those times, when it was just the two of them separated by his cell’s barrier, that Lance’s guard dropped and he began to fall.  
  
_Hard._  
  
And that was wrong—so, _so wrong_ for all the wrong reasons, he reminded himself. Absolutely nothing was right about it: he was still trying to get over his feelings for Allura, and while he’d seemingly moved passed the silly crush stage, he still was particularly possessive over her.  
  
However, when Lotor disappeared off to Oriande and Lance was left with little to not distractions from his own sickening thoughts, he had no choice but to confront his feelings within himself.  
  
Was his heart hurting for _Allura..._ or _Lotor?_  
  
That was the question he’d asked himself a million times as they all awaited the duo’s return.  
  
There was just something intriguing about the Emperor; the way he talked, the things he spoke of, his neat presentation of himself, always looking his best and giving the Princess the most charming smiles…and of course, the way he ignored all of Lance’s petty shots.  
  
Lotor was a patient man. Unlike Keith, who’d caved after some considerable prodding, he didn’t seem at all willing to play Lance’s little game. At most, he’d shoot the Paladin a disapproving gaze or furrowed brow. That lack of acknowledgement only made Lance angrier—only made him want Lotor more—and the more intense the feeling in his gut—and heart—grew, the meaner his comments became.  
  
And he didn’t exactly mean everything he’d said—even if, for a tick, he thought it really would be better if they simply tossed Lotor out into the void of space because then all these confusing feelings would _disappear_. He’d feel guilty as he lie in bed, staring into the complete darkness that was the inside of his sleeping mask, and thus, the toxic, never-ending cycle continued on, his guilt only leading to a more hateful output.  
  
The stronger these feelings grew, the more upset he became, not wanting to acknowledge the inevitable. When Lotor had moved out of the Castle and into his own, Lance found himself even more at a loss of what to do to take his mind off it all—but for some reason, the farther Lotor was, the more he thought of him, excitement bubbling throughout his very being whenever someone so much as mentioned having to meet with him for some sort of discussion.  
  
All the signs were undeniable.  
  
Lance knew it better than anyone else—he liked Lotor that way.

 _“Arrgh!”_  
  
He cried out as he slashed the last remaining offensive training orb clean in half with his new Altean broadsword. Training had become his new outlet of choice, especially when the Emperor was away. With each step, he tried to remember the stance Allura had shown him, and the way Keith had always so effortlessly sliced whatever was in sight, but the more he tried to be like them, the worse his performance became.  
  
It was infuriating—but then again, what _wasn’t,_ these days?  
  
The bayard in his hand shifted to its neutral state and as Lance caught his breath, he tossed it to the floor and fell next to it, legs spread as he sprawled out, staring up at the blinding fluorescent ship lights lining the ceiling. A bead of sweat rolled uncomfortably down the side of his forehead and with a growl he wiped it away with a balled fist. Lately, even the littlest things got on his nerves…  
  
“Letting out some steam?”  
  
Lance’s eyes widened and he froze in place, heart stilling completely before ramping up its beats to a rather uncomfortably rapid pace.  
  
That accent.  
  
He sat up, turning to the doorway, where Lotor stood, arms crossed with the same soft, charming smile he always gave Allura that made Lance want to just kick him right in his gorgeous face.

 

* * *

 

Lotor handed him a space juice pack before taking a seat next to him on the floor.  
  
How unbefitting, Lance thought with narrowed eyes, making quite the face; emperors weren’t supposed to sit on the floor! Besides…  
  
He turned his gaze down to the unopened space juice, tugging the straw off the back and popping open the wrapper before plunging it through the hole, feeling satisfied with the noisy _‘pop!’_ as material gave way.  
  
…despite the seal, this could definitely be poisoned, Lance thought.  
  
“The Princess instructed me to deliver it,” violet eyes moved from the juice pack to the devolved bayard still resting beneath Lance’s free hand, “She said you’ve been training incredibly hard as of late.”  
  
There he goes, talking about Allura again. With a scowl, Lance brought the pack up to his mouth, lips latching on to the straw as he sucked up the liquid aggressively, making a loud, slurping noise that would drown out anything else Lotor had to say.  
  
But he said nothing until long after the pack had been sucked dry, instead leaning back on his palms and examining the Altean architecture of the training room. He’d never been in it before, even during his time living in the castle, so he found it rather curious.  
  
Lance set aside the crumpled little pack, trying to judge whether or not the fuzzy feeling in his stomach were nervous butterflies from being around the person he liked, or poison he may or may not have just guzzled down so willingly.  
  
“Fascinating, is it not? How it adapts itself to the user’s will.” Lotor finally said, turning his head to Lance with another signature smile.  
  
The human was unable to keep his cheeks from turning red but he quickly faced away, using a hand to further hide it—a behavior which completely perplexed Lotor. Not like Lance was trying to communicate anything to him…no matter how obvious his crush was: he wanted to say something mean. He wanted to push Lotor away, physically and metaphorically before he could get any more closer. Then a hand on top of his was much too close for comfort, and—wait, _what?_  
  
Nearly giving himself whiplash, he jerked his head back to the right, finding Lotor’s gloved hand resting on top of his own, still loosely holding on to the bayard.  
  
“I see that fire within,” he continued, not moving his hand an inch despite Lance’s reaction, “Allow me to bring out your greatest potential.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm praying I can finish this before season 6 drops LFJKDSLJKFDSLJK


End file.
